


Sound body, unsound mind

by BakedAppleSauce



Series: The desert is a waste of time [28]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: (it really isn't), Begging, Bottom Alfie, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Pass it on, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, bottoming and subbing are not the same thing, spread the word, this is an educational essay, to the people who need to know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:02:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25115083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BakedAppleSauce/pseuds/BakedAppleSauce
Summary: “Here I was under the impression, right,” Alfie says. “...that you wanted to shove your cock up my arse, yeah, wasn't I, which… if that's not the case, right, if that's just some tragic misunderstanding-”“That’s just your hearing starting to go,” Tommy says and then he’s already gone again, dismounting and rolling over onto the other side of the bed, opening Alfie’s nightstand drawer and rummaging for the oil.In which some people are havingideasand some people are having... thoughts.(This is part of a bigger AU, but all you really need for context is the tag "established relationship".)
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Alfie Solomons
Series: The desert is a waste of time [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1310750
Comments: 39
Kudos: 267





	Sound body, unsound mind

November’s coming to an end. It’s cold and damp everywhere, and Alfie’s been feeling stiff for days. Not quite in pain all of the time but close. Just... toeing the fucking line, isn't he – the constant reminder of the things that could be, and very well might be in an hour or two. 

The damp is honestly worse than the cold. Leaves him sullen and quiet (or, well, not _quiet_ exactly, he’d probably have to be dead to stop sharing his wisdom with the rest of the world, wouldn’t he, but the _reactions_ of all the other people to said wisdom tell him he’s probably been a bit more difficult than usual), easily irritated for no reason at all. 

Which is irritating as well, honestly. He's fucking irritating _himself_ at this point, ridiculous as it is. 

Tommy never seems to be cold, the bastard. Most definitely _is,_ mind you, because his skin appears to be downright freezing off his bones sometimes, especially during the colder months, but he never even seems to notice. Alfie’s downright jealous sometimes, or at the very least intrigued. He’d like to think of himself as resilient, in the sense that his body is reasonably dependable, even under adverse conditions, in the sense that it knows how to keep going even if the going gets a bit more difficult.

He’s never been able to just _not_ pay any attention to discomfort, though. Can get through it, yes. Can get through a _lot_ of it if he has to, and there's a certain comfort that comes with that knowledge, but he could never just turn it off the way Tommy seems to sometimes, impervious to any and all unpleasant physical sensations, too occupied with the insides of his own head to notice anything else. Seems to leave this earthly plane entirely, doesn’t he, unlike Alfie, who’ll stay rooted to reality and the cold and the fucking _damp,_ because that’s all he knows how to do. 

Not now, though, anyway – right now Tommy’s all warmed up under the blankets, lovely hot skin and flushed face and heavy eyelids. Has been smoking for the last two minutes, propped up against the headboard, with the air of some benevolent ghost preoccupied with the secrets of the spiritual world (or, probably, realistically, the mad bloody scheme with that fucking mansion he’s trying to pull off at the moment), before burrowing back down under the blankets, completely human once again. Seems to be happy enough to stay in bed for now, doesn’t he, but he’s starting to get a bit restless, Alfie can tell. 

Predictably, it doesn't take long until Tommy decides to make a move. Just have to wait him out sometimes. How some people arrive at the conclusion that Tommy Shelby is some unpredictable enigma is beyond Alfie, honestly. Tommy’s nothing _but_ predictable. 

Still, Alfie murmurs, “The fuck you doin’?” which is a purely rhetorical question, innit, because the intent is pretty fucking clear. Grabs Tommy’s wrist for good measure, pulls it away from his own hip and against his chest instead. Tommy retaliates by pressing close, nipping at Alfie’s collarbone. His hair smells like cigarette smoke and, faintly, of soap. 

“Nothing,” Tommy says.

“Ohhh, nothing, was it,” Alfie says. 

“Yeah, nothing,” Tommy murmurs. “Don’t know what you’re on about.”

He’s in a rare, quiet mood it seems, with no need to prove something by putting up some sort of fight first, no desire to be wrangled into submission; offering it all up voluntarily instead, which is… _interesting,_ to say the least. 

“Don’t know what I’m on about, hmm?” Alfie says. “Is that right.”

Can’t help but reach out and grip Tommy’s jaw, Tommy’s mouth opening a bit, soon as Alfie’s thumb is on his lower lip, gently crushing it against the row of his teeth. Doesn't quite dip it inside, lets Tommy lap at it with his tongue instead, his own hot breath cancelling out some of the moisture. Drags his wet thumb down afterwards, over Tommy's chin and his neck, smearing spit, until he ends up gently pressing it into the dip of Tommy's throat. 

Tommy swallows – Alfie can feel him do it, gulp of his throat moving the skin under the pad of Alfie’s finger – and shifts even closer. Tries to press against Alfie’s thigh, to get some friction out of it, if past experience is anything to go by.

“Seem tense,” Tommy murmurs, sounding half-accusatory. “Eh? M’not doing anything, but you’re tense. All of the fucking time.”

“Oh do I, yeah?” Alfie says. “Seem tense?”

The observation hits a little too close to home, even though weirdly, the accusatory tone makes it better. Not bloody _pity_ at least, just a bit of good, old-fashioned selfishness. (‘Course he fucking noticed, Alfie thinks, weirdly annoyed. The day Tommy Shelby fails to notice some tiny, inconsequential little weakness, he’ll probably be busy being declared dead.)

Thinks about just shoving two fingers into Tommy’s mouth, shut him up that way. Decides against it, because he doesn’t want to end the pleasantly charged atmosphere between them just yet. 

“Well, Thomas,” he says instead. “You see, if that is the case, right, if- _if_ I am a bit tense, yeah, _if,_ it's solely ‘cause I have to be vigilant, right, all of the fuckin’ time, because the world at large is a fuckin’ cesspit of-” which is as far as he gets before Tommy snorts, amused and incredulous at the same time, and kisses him. It’s clearly an attempt at shutting him up, which is fine, honestly, Alfie’s in a decent mood, he’ll allow it. Grips Tommy’s jaw again, automatically, less gentle than before, keeps him in place for a long minute before moving him back a bit so he can continue talking, “...innocent soul that I am, yeah, trying to make a living in the middle of this mess, so you’ll have to forgive me-”

“Innocent soul, yeah?” Tommy interrupts. “I had no idea. Was I s’posed to notice that, or…”

Alfie has to give in then – what else is new, honestly? Never can seem to fucking help himself where Tommy is concerned. Wraps his free arm around his waist and pulls him close, closer, as close as he'll go. Their entire conversation is utter nonsense anyway, they’re talking just to say things. Tommy sighs, no resistance there at all when Alfie shoves a leg between his thighs. 

“‘Course not,” Alfie says. “Was countin’ on you not to notice, mate, actually, wasn’t I-”

“Hmm,” Tommy says, noise of agreement that proves he’s not even listening, and kisses him again, soft but insistent, melting into it. Hell, but Alfie wants him. At this point, it’s a serious possibility he might never stop wanting him. Novelty’s worn off by now, because they’ve been doing this long enough, but… still. This might never go away. 

Have to cut off the limb to save the body sometimes, he thinks suddenly, weirdly, apropos of fucking nothing, before he gets distracted by Tommy moving against him, softly nipping at his lower lip. Alfie’s hand shifts to the back of his head, scratching fingers through his hair. 

“What,” Alfie says, amused against his will at the display. “What d'you want then? Hmmm?”

Tommy's just staring at him, like he's barely even listening, eyes pupil-dark and glittering. Like some cat, Alfie thinks, transfixed by something that unexpectedly started moving in the corner. Tips his head to the side a bit, still lying down, baring his throat in the process. It’s a nice gesture, yes, but far from any actual words, and Alfie does love hearing him say things out loud. 

“Answer the fucking question, mate,” he says. Puts a bit of an edge in his voice for good measure; can see Tommy react immediately, eyes fluttering shut for one long moment. When he opens them again, he's fixated on Alfie’s collarbone, which is fine, he can’t be expected to say everything and maintain eye contact at the same time. Not far enough gone for that yet. 

“Gonna,” Tommy says and then clears his throat. “...gonna let me fuck you again?”

There they are, Alfie thinks. It’s not an entirely unexpected request, nor an unwelcome one. They’ve never quite been in this situation before, Tommy in the mood he’s in right now, with _that_ particular option on the table as well. 

“Wellll,” Alfie says, trying to look pensive. “M'not sure, mate, to be perfectly honest with you.”

“No?” Tommy mutters, not sounding overly bothered. He's busy plastering their bodies together, unmistakably hard, grinding against Alfie's thigh. Some part of Alfie suddenly wonders how long it’d take him to get off like _that –_ if he’d manage it at all. How much of a mess he’d be if he finally managed it. How much more of a mess he’d be if it turned out he actually couldn’t.

“You'll like it,” Tommy murmurs now, which is very distracting, honestly. “You'll see.” 

Alfie can't quite tell if he's trying to be deliberately seductive or if that's just his overall mood working it’s magic. Says, “Ohh yeah?” to cover up how affected he is.

“Liked it the last time,” Tommy says, and the smug undertone is completely undercut by the way he's dragging his cock over Alfie's thigh now, by the way his hot breath is ghosting over Alfie’s neck, pawing at him like some sort of animal, too turned on and distracted to be any good at it. 

“That is an excellent point, innit,” Alfie says. “An _excellent_ point, mate, yeah. But still, I have to say... not sure I'm entirely, one hundred percent convinced here, yet, Thomas,” and then adds, on a whim. “Keep talking, hm? Might get somewhere after all.” 

“Made you come, didn't I,” Tommy says promptly. Alfie half-expected him to be petulant about this, in all honesty, but he just seems… keen. Eager to please in a very lazy, half-asleep kind of way that has no right to be as attractive as it seems right now. 

“That you did,” Alfie says. “That you did.” 

“Sounded like you liked it, too,” Tommy says. “Couldn’t shut up the whole way through.”

 _“Me?”_ Alfie says, feigning surprise. “Fuckin' impossible, that, nahh I don't think so. Must have me confused with somebody else, mate.”

Tommy grins at that, ducking his head to hide it. 

“Gonna do it exactly the way you want,” he says then, like he’s really delivering some sort of sales pitch here, which… fucking hell. That's an impossible claim anyway, innit, because they've done it twice (Alfie bending over for him, so to speak) so Tommy doesn't even _know_ how he likes it yet. Still, Alfie thinks, here he is, isn’t he, with his unwavering fucking confidence, except now it's coated in this uncharacteristically sweetness, lazy and playful at the same time, and it’s doing Alfie’s head in, honestly. 

“Are you, now,” he says, going for sceptical. 

“Yeah.”

“Hmmm,” Alfie says. 

Suddenly can’t help but wonder if this is how Tommy usually is with women. It's hard to tell. Alfie’s under the assumption that since the war Tommy has mainly enjoyed the company of prostitutes, but of course, it is just that – an assumption. Honestly can't imagine Tommy be anything but guarded with somebody he doesn't know very well, but then again, who the fuck knows. Almost considers asking, because Tommy's guard might be down enough to actually get some answers out of him, if Alfie surprises him a little, but it would absolutely ruin the mood. 

“Still saying no?” Tommy murmurs. 

“Hmmm,” Alfie says again. Puts two straight fingers under Tommy’s chin, pushes his head back up so they’re face to face, actually looking at each other. Tommy looks a bit uneasy under the scrutiny, but seems expectant at the same time. 

“Fine, then.”

“Yeah?”

“You may fuckin’ proceed.”

Tommy grins again, triumphant, and then just rolls over and on top of Alfie, straddling him, like he’s mounting a bloody horse. 

“Here I was under the impression, right,” Alfie says, hands going to Tommy’s thighs immediately. “...that you wanted to shove your cock up _my_ arse, yeah, wasn't I, which… if that's not the case, right, if that's just some tragic misunderstanding-”

“That’s just your hearing starting to go,” Tommy says and then he’s already gone again, dismounting and rolling over onto the other side of the bed, opening Alfie’s nightstand drawer and rummaging for the oil.

“Why do you have a tea cup in here,” he says then. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Alfie says, trying to sound mysterious. Doesn’t even recall, to be perfectly honest, but there must’ve been a decent reason. Tommy rolls his eyes, and then slams the drawer shut again.

“Careful!” Alfie says. “Family heirloom, that, wasn’t it.” 

“‘Course it was,” Tommy mutters sarcastically. He’s already back under the blankets, pressing close again. “Great-grandfather was famous for his china, eh?”

“Great-great-aunt on my mother’s side, yeah, actually if you must know-” Alfie says and then, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothin’”, Tommy murmurs, which is a lie and a half, because his free hand, the one not clutching the tiny bottle with oil, is on Alfie’s hip, sliding down to his thigh and then further down to the back of it, trying to pull his leg forward. It doesn’t hurt – doesn’t even twinge, really, not quite, but again – the threat’s been hanging over his head for days now, ever since that bloody damp started to creep in and Alfie’s immediately on high alert. 

“Fuck off,” he snaps, a bit too loud for the current atmosphere. “Not like that.”

Feels suddenly, irrationally annoyed that Tommy would just want to do it like this, no fucking consideration for Alfie’s back at all. _Fuck_ him, Alfie thinks, it's not like that arsehole didn't notice. Said so himself, didn’t he, had to rub it in, even.

Tommy dutifully stops what he's doing, just staring at him with a startled (kind of stupid, Alfie thinks cruelly) expression on his face, like he's waiting for instructions, like his brain is too preoccupied with the prospect of sex to think about anything else… and fuck him for being so bloody lovely all of the bloody time, while they're at it, looking like a wet fucking dream without even trying. 

Just wants to take _everything,_ doesn’t he, and then still feels like it's not enough yet, already searching for bigger and better things.

“Just…” Alfie says, trying to calm himself down again. “Hang on a fuckin’ second, yeah? Like this.”

He rolls over and onto his side, can feel Tommy plaster himself along his back immediately. This time, his hand sneaks down Alfie’s hip and fits itself over his cock, gives it a few nice, long strokes, like an apology. Alfie makes a low, satisfied grunt, lets him hear it. Reaches back to pat Tommy’s thigh for good measure. He can feel Tommy now, hard against the small of his back, expectant little shiver going through him all of a sudden.

Tommy takes his hand away again, starts fumbling with the oil. He hasn’t exactly been... _suave_ so far, where this part is concerned. Not inconsiderate exactly, but definitely... inexperienced. Clearly trying to emulate what Alfie’s been doing to him all of this time, which isn’t the worst approach. Problem is, for some reason the lack of experience makes the whole thing more exciting, not less. (Alfie’s been told time and time again that he’s not entirely right in the head. Maybe there’s some truth to it after all.)

True to form, Tommy’s not being patient this time around either. Starts out with one finger, thankfully, but he’s merciless about it. 

“Where’re your fuckin’ manners, Thomas,” Alfie says – wheezes a bit, really, but what the fuck else is he supposed to do. 

“Shut up,” Tommy says, sounding embarrassed, before he adds, “You like this.”

“The concept of it, yes,” Alfie says, trying to control his breathing. Can’t start to get winded already. “But s’far as the, the execution is concerned, right-” 

“Two reasons,” Tommy says. He’s fucking him with one finger _already,_ slow and careful about it, but _still. Fuck._ “You like it for two reasons.”

“Oh, really,” Alfie manages, intrigued despite himself. “Now this, right, this I gotta, I gotta fuckin’ hear-”

“Sure,” Tommy says, fucking him slow and steady, like clockwork, which… it works. Doesn’t exactly feel good, not quite yet, but it _will,_ Alfie knows that. “First of all, you’re fucking _impatient._ Eh?”

“I’ll have you know, mate,” Alfie says immediately. “That I have not been impatient _once_ in my fuckin’ life. Yeah? I’m the single most serene- _fuck…_ serene individual you’ll ever meet, yeah?”

“Second of all,” Tommy continues, undeterred. “You like being in over your head. Don’t even try and tell me you’re not.”

Alfie huffs a laugh at that, surprised. 

“You insinuatin’ I’m in over my fuckin’ head here, Thomas?”

“‘Course not,” Tommy mutters, before sinking his teeth into the meat of Alfie’s shoulder. Alfie _has_ to grab him by the hair then, making a fist to hold him in place, twists around far enough to actually kiss him. The angle isn’t ideal, probably a bit uncomfortable for Tommy, who only makes a low, satisfied noise and kisses him right back. Still got his fucking finger shoved deep, the bastard, won’t be distracted at all.

They make out for a long time, and when they finally stop, everything has started to feel… better. _Good._ Tommy can tell, probably, or maybe it’s just his usual bloody luck, because he starts working a second finger in. 

“Fuuuck,” Alfie says on a long exhale. Tries to relax, tries to give into it. Already, it feels a lot easier than that first time around, which isn’t saying much, because… well. Had been a _while_ at that point, hadn’t it. Tommy keeps biting and sucking at the meat of his shoulder the whole way through – slowly starting to fuck him open on two fingers, then three. It should be embarrassing, honestly, the way Alfie’s back starts to curve after a while, the way he’s starting to rock back onto Tommy’s fingers, the way he’s panting for it. _Should_ be, but for some strange reason it just… isn’t. 

The way Tommy sounds behind him, the shocked little inhale he makes, any time Alfie has a visible reaction to anything, doesn’t hurt. _Fuck,_ but this is good. 

“Are, are you…” Tommy mutters eventually, low and hoarse. “Can I…?”

“Make it worth my while, hmm?” Alfie manages and then all of the air rushes out of him at once, surprised despite himself, because Tommy truly doesn’t waste any time. Alfie can hear him, presumably fisting his own cock to slick himself up, and then there’s blunt pressure, exquisitely inexorable and all-consuming. 

The bedsheet is bunching between his fingers before he even knows what he’s doing. _Fucking_ hell, but this is… this… Tommy is _inside of him,_ he’s splitting him open and he won’t stop until he’s good and done, won't stop until… 

“Oh,” Alfie can hear himself say. “Oh. _Fuck.”_

Behind him, Tommy makes some kind of noise, working himself deeper. Keeps going until he’s all the way inside, something wild clawing at the insides of Alfie’s chest while his entire body just seems to give in. Tommy’s trying to get closer still, half on top of him by now, a solid weight, skin burning hot, and then he twitches in some way, the tiniest fucking shift, and suddenly, somehow, his cock is _right there –_ right where it fucking matters, nudging up against where Alfie wants it most. 

“Hnnn, fuck,” Alfie pants, one hand curling around his stiff cock. “Fuck, yes, right there- bloody _move-”_

Tommy does – seems almost startled, but he _does,_ pulling out a bit and grinding back into him, slow but hard.

“Ffffuck-” Alfie huffs, muscles going tense all of a sudden, completely unexpected. Readjusts the grip on his cock and bucks into it, which means he's fucking himself back on Tommy's cock once the momentum is gone again. Tommy’s gripping at him, trying to hold him close, pull him _back,_ which makes it even _better, fuck-_ got the spot exactly right, and it's lighting Alfie up from the inside, makes him feel high-strung and tense and bright-

And all of a sudden he's on the verge of coming, shivering on the edge for one long, delicious second, _right_ fucking there, before he can't help but give into it. Starts to pump his own cock without any conscious decision, desperately fast and then he's _coming, oh-_ spilling everywhere, with come dripping out between his fingers because he can't seem to stop fucking his own fist. 

Becomes aware that he might be making some noise as well, lower lip burning from the sting of his own teeth, sunken there in self defense, trying to brace himself against the flood of pleasure. Can feel himself spasm around the unforgiving intrusion that is Tommy's cock, again and again and a-fucking-gain; feels his face flush with a new wave of heat at the reminder. 

Here he is – a sinner and a fucking sodomite and he's loving every second of it. 

_“Fuck,”_ he pants, delirious and disbelieving, and somewhat ecstatic about the outcome. 

Tommy's just grinding against him, tiny little twitches, like he's trying to keep still, like he doesn't know what to do. 

“Did you just…” he says, low and breathless, and he's purely fucking fishing at this point, isn't he. No way in hell he didn't notice Alfie falling over the edge just now. 

“Yeah,” Alfie manages regardless, stomach and chest sticky with his own come. 

Can feel Tommy shudder behind him at the admission, press even closer. He's still rock fucking hard, buried as deep as he can go, so it makes Alfie shudder as well, unexpected aftershock rushing through him, making him clench down involuntarily. At that, Tommy hisses and rocks forward, like he just now realized he's got some stakes in this game, he might do something about his own erection as well. 

Except… well. Alfie's got some fucking say here too, doesn’t he. Not like they’re done here, not by a long shot. 

“Now hang on, mate,” he manages. “Now hang on just a second, yeah.” 

“You wanna stop?” Tommy says, slowing down already. Sounds disappointed, but what else is new. 

“Didn't say that, now did I,” Alfie says. “Yeah? Hold your fuckin' horses, mate.”

“What, then?” Tommy mutters, absentmindedly now, like all he needed to hear was confirmation they aren't going to stop. Rocks forward again, fucking himself that quarter of an inch deeper, which- oh, hell. _Oh._ Not sure if that's gonna work out, Alfie thinks, not at all sure how long he'll be able to stand this. Already feels like too much, making something animalistic flutter low in the pit of his stomach, wild and helplessly alarmed. 

Then again, only one way to find out, isn't there. 

“Thing is,” he says. “Just cause I just got mine, yeah, doesn't mean you're fucking done yet, are you, not by a fucking long shot.”

“What?”

“You're gonna keep going, treacle,” Alfie says. Feels how that makes Tommy shudder. “Aren't you? Until I fucking tell you otherwise.” 

“Yeah,” is all Tommy says hoarsely. “Yeah, okay.”

He's panting like he’s run for miles after five minutes and practically sounds like he's sobbing after the next ten, just... heaving for breath. Keeps putting his mouth to Alfie's shoulder blade, his biceps, the back of his neck, the top of his spine, anywhere he can seem to reach, like he needs the distraction. 

Must be blue and purple by now, Alfie thinks with bone-deep satisfaction, the way it feels, he'll be wearing these marks for weeks. Gonna feel _this_ for the next two days too, he's pretty sure about that already, because Tommy’s still fucking him like clockwork, like it's his fucking _job,_ everything too much, oversensitized and _hot._

Keeps pausing as well, is the thing, shoved as deep as he can go, getting the angle exactly right more often than not, brushing against Alfie's prostate, which is just… it's a _lot,_ all right, just skirting the edge of being _too fucking much, fuck, stop,_ because Alfie's not fucking used to it, is the thing, brain clouded by a haze of pleasure and panic. 

Fuck, he keeps thinking, he can't do this, he really, really _can't,_ except each and every Tommy start moving again, slow and shivery, like he's afraid to move too much at this point, not wanting to come on accident. 

“Alfie,” he keeps saying, whine in his voice and with a clear question mark at the end, wanting permission to come. 

“Yeah,” Alfie croaks finally, like he has no idea what's going on, like it’s not obvious. 

“Just…” Tommy starts, then stops himself. 

“Yeah?” Alfie prompts, drawing it out. “What is it then? Hmm? Out with it, mate.”

“Can,” Tommy stutters immediately, which is a testament to how close he really is, how badly he must want it. “Can I... I have to- I need to fuckin' come-”

“Ask nicely, then.” 

Tommy is clutching at his hips again, really digging his fingers in, pulling him back as he's rocking forward, fucking deep, making Alfie groan helplessly. 

“Fuck you,” Tommy pants. “I… m'not gonna-” 

“Too fucking bad, then,” Alfie pants back. “You want something, yeah, you, you can make it sound nice, can't you-”

“Fuck you,” Tommy says. _“Fuck you,_ you fuckin’- always with the- what, what do you want me to say? Eh? What do you-”

“You know what,” Alfie says and they're both just snarling at each other now, completely out of control. Alfie's half-hard again, he realizes with something close to shock, cock throbbing between his legs, occasionally stimulation from brushing the bedsheet almost unbearable. “You fuckin' _know_ what, yeah, don't try to fuckin’ tell me you don’t-”

There are a few long seconds of silence, Tommy’s harsh breathing the only thing that’s audible, rolling and rolling his hips helplessly, like he can’t bring to stop himself. Alfie can just see him, forehead pressed to the top of Alfie’s spine, mouth hanging open, muscles of his arse probably visibly working, if anybody was around to see-

“Please,” Tommy growls then, right next to his ear, sounding absolutely _livid_ – because he knew he was going to say it right from the start, Alfie realizes, because he never considered refusing, because he wants it _this fucking badly-_ “Can I _just,_ I- I _need_ to- pl- Alfie? Can-” 

“Fine,” Alfie manages, ears ringing, shocked to his very core by the admission. “Fuckin' hell, yeah, all right, go ahead-” 

Which is as far as he gets, because Tommy has already stopped holding back; grabs for Alfie's hips again and then he's _really_ fucking giving it to him, fast and hard and absolutely frantic. 

Got a hand on Alfie's arsecheek all of a sudden, prying him open, and then there's his _fucking thumb, fuck it all to hell,_ pushing in alongside where he's working his cock in and out, not even going deep, not even to the first knuckle, but it _feels_ like being split open. 

Doesn’t exactly hurt, but it makes Alfie's heart do a panicked little stutter nonetheless, makes his fucking cock twitch at the same time, makes him choke on a helpless noise and then Tommy's started coming. He's not being quiet about it either, moaning like he's in pain, shoving deep, deep, deep-

“Ohh _God,”_ he groans, face still buried somewhere next to Alfie's ear. “Oh Jesus- _fuck-”_

He’s coming for a long time, moving and fucking _moving,_ in and out of Alfie like he doesn’t know how to stop himself. At some point, Alfie reaches back and fumbles for Tommy’s head, cupping the back of his neck, thumb stroking his jaw. 

“Jesus Christ,” Tommy murmurs when he's finally done, still shivering through the aftershocks. 

They throw off the blankets eventually, both of them sweaty and overheated. Won’t last long, but for the moment, the cool air feels like bliss. Tommy just rolls over and into him as soon as Alfie’s flopped onto his back; plasters himself against Alfie’s side, heat and stickiness be damned, and buries his face between the crook of Alfie’s neck and his own arm. 

“Oi,” Alfie mutters. On a whim, he fists a hand in the hair on the top of Tommy’s head again, and carefully lifts him up until he can see his face. Tommy makes an unhappy noise, blinking at him like he has no idea what’s going on, slow and confused and completely out of it. 

“C’mere, yeah. You all right?” 

“Yeah,” Tommy mutters.

“You happy now?”

Tommy blinks once more, becoming more alert by the second. Doesn’t answer the question, but he does bite down on his lower lip, another grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. Alfie’s lets go of his hair, lets him bury down again. Presses a kiss to the top of his head for good measure. 

Can’t help but think of that bloody sentence all of a sudden. Must’ve heard that in the war somewhere, at some point, he’s pretty sure of that… _cut off the limb to save the body._ If the body in question is even remotely interested in being saved, that is. 

“Stop thinking,” Tommy murmurs, indignant.

“I will not take orders from the reigning king of all of the glass houses,” Alfie says. “Yeah? Gotta draw the bloody line somewhere.”

Tommy half-heartedly smacks him in the chest for that. He’s lovely, Alfie thinks, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut, a fucking nuisance and an insatiable, restless bastard who’s under the impression he’s going to take over the whole world some day, but _lovely_ all the same. Going to end up in his big, fuck-off mansion sooner rather than later, won't he, and then… well. 

No time like the present. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dedicating this to all the people out there using the terms top/bottom and dom/sub like they're interchangeable, because... they're not even remotely the same thing. This has been a PSA.


End file.
